


A Bit In Love

by Enj_y



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Ancom is dumb, Commie gets very drunk, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Titles, International worker's day, Other, Sorta kinda dubcon? Like I mean Commie gets drunk but like idk man, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vodka, Workers March
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enj_y/pseuds/Enj_y
Summary: Commie never begs, yet here they are. Commie is begging Ancom to come with them to the Worker's Day March. Ancom agrees, but only because they're a bit in love.Maybe a lot in love.
Relationships: Ancom/Commie, Authleft/Libleft, leftist unity - Relationship
Comments: 17
Kudos: 88





	A Bit In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Happy May Day!! I wrote this over the span of about five hours so I hope it doesn't suck lol. Yes, I could have updated my other fic but will I do that? Eventually, I wanted to write this. Also, there's light dubcon, Commie gets a bit drunk so be careful there. ^w^

Commie didn’t really ask for things. For the most part, if he wanted something, he took it. Ancom supposed that was just part of how he developed, all marches and furious words, rallying cries and strong fists. Now, he was all theory and could be dull, but sometimes he would have this look in his eyes, the brightness and fury for a lighter future, a safer future. Ancom rarely was able to see that, it seemed that qi had taken much of that fight, but now must have been one of those times. Beyond not really asking for things, Commie most certainly didn’t beg. According to him, it was unbecoming. But here they were, his dark eyes shining and a smile shaping his words. 

“Comrade, please? It will truly be wonderful, you can dress in your pride things, I will bring a worker’s flag. It would be so kind of you, honestly. We shall see the workers unite, da? See the unions fighting once again!” Ancom probably wouldn’t have agreed a few years ago, scared of if Commie would be hurting them, but now… “Please?” Qi smiled slightly, shoving him slightly in the chest with qir elbow. 

“Sure. You have to come with me to pride this year though, understand?” Qi grinned, pulling down qir bandana. “When is the march?”

  
“Next week, comrade. And fine, I will go to pride with you.”

“Yay!” Qi squealed, throwing qir arms around him before pulling back abruptly. “Heh, uhm, sorry. I’m gonna head up to my room now, see you later?”

“Da, see you later.” 

* * *

Ancom stared into qir closet, trying to select clothing that would be appropriate for this sort of march. It had been a while since one of the protests qi attended hadn’t erupted into full-on violence, and you especially didn’t want to be seen there, especially with the doxxing the fascists enjoyed engaging in. But Commie had insisted qi didn’t need the bandana or face mask, so qi was left rifling through qir closet to find something that could work. 

Qi ended up selecting a t-shirt that had been swiped from Commie and edited to fit them, “Workers of the World, Unite!”, a pair of shorts that ended far above qir knee, a red flannel, and a pair of black cat ears. (Along with the combat boots and cat socks qi always wore.) Qi didn’t bother grabbing qir bat, as Commie said the march was to be nonviolent, not truly a protest, but a demonstration, reminding bourgeoisie that the working class was still here and still ready to fight for their rights. Ancom had worked alongside Commie back in the 1920s, fighting for the eight-hour workday and for weekends, though it did seem he always forgot that. People always seemed to forget that really, qi was still a communist, not just an anarchist. Qi still fought for worker’s rights, and that was important to qim. But whatever, that didn’t matter now. Maybe they’d see Anarchosyndaclism there, she was always a delight to be around. Or maybe Anarchomutualism too, both of them seemed to enjoy worker’s marches. Their cousin and twin were always truly delightful and had some crazy idea about them and Commie loving each other or some bullshit. They were comrades! That’s all either of them wanted, all either of them needed. It was absolutely stupid. Feelings for Commie? Commie having feelings for them?! Stupid, and even if qi did have a crush, it would be nothing but a crush. Definitely not love. 

  
Okay, maybe qi had a little bit of a crush. Just a bit. Qi was always stuck in the house with rightists, give qim a break! He was hot, dammit, and… Oh god. Qi had a huge fucking crush, didn’t qi? “Ancom!” A knock on qir door brought qim from qir thoughts, Commie’s voice pulling them out. “Are you ready, Anarkiddie?” A warm feeling flushed through qir chest at the nickname that qi pushed down quickly, and opened the door. Commie was wearing a red t-shirt and leather jacket, skinny jeans and combat boots, his usual ushanka still covering his hair. Qi looked him up and down, eyes lingering slightly on how the muscles of his legs stood out before refocusing on his face. 

“Hi. How do I look?” Qi spun around and smiled at the flushed look on his face. 

“G-good, Anarkiddie. You look,” he cleared his throat gruffly and steadied his voice. “Good. Ready to go?”

“Yep! Are we taking the bus?”

“Da, let’s go.” The two communists walked to the bus stop, a friendly debate playing between the two of them on the best way to address the unity between the working class and systemic issues such as transphobia and racism. 

“We can’t just ignore the systematic issues, Commie. It’s not like transphobia and racism are just gonna disappear under either of our systems. We still have to address those issues.”

“But those things simply divide the working class. We have to stand together as one!”

“I’m not saying we won’t, but we still have to address them. If we pretend they don’t exist, that doesn’t help anyone. When we stand together, ignoring those other issues turns minorities away, you know? Like, for trans people. If it’s all cis people leading the charge, trans people might not feel like our issues are being addressed.” Commie nodded, frowning slightly. 

“Hm, yes, I see what you mean, as long as we don’t ignore working-class oppression.”

“Of course not.”

“Well, I think you could be right then. I should look further into this.”

“Really? You’re not gonna argue with me further?”

“We’re allowed to agree on some things, no?” He smiled down at them and qi returned it shyly, a blush rising on qir cheeks slightly. Qi took his hand, and they kept on their way to the bus stop. 

When they got to the bus stop, a small group of other ideologies was already there. Anarchosyndicalism and Anarchomutualism were bouncing excitedly, and the feminist sisters who had decided to come, Marxist Feminism and Anarchofeminism were trying fruitlessly to get the other two to calm down. “Ancom!!” Anarchosyndicalism called. “Ooh, Commie and you are together! Who confessed?” Ancom dropped his hand quickly and shoved qir hands in qir pockets, blush rising over qir cheeks again. 

“N-Neither of us! Shut up, Syn.” Ansyn and Anmut both giggled wildly, practically falling over each other with glee. 

“Sorry, Ancom. Your sister got Anarchomutualism all excited and we can’t calm them down. She’s still convinced that you have a crush on Commie. I mean, it doesn’t really matter if you do, you know?” Anarchofeminism rolled her eyes. 

“Please shut up,” Ancom mumbled, nodding to Commie who was excitedly greeting Marxist Feminism. “And I don’t.”

“Suuuure,” Chimed in Anarchomutualism. “Who cares, today’s a celebration! It’s time to have fun! There’s gonna be drinks!”

“Right! C’mon, twinsie! Sit with me on the bus? I haven’t seen you in forever, you’re always off doing that dumb Centricide thing with your crush- I mean, Commie. It’s time to celebrate all of our accomplishments in the past hundred years! Of course, we’ve got a lot to go, and we have a lot of work in other countries, but let’s take a day to celebrate what we’ve been able to do, you know?” Anarchosyndicalism put her arm around qim and the six stepped on to the bus that rolled up, excitedly chattering about the upcoming day. 

* * *

The park was full of people, bright eyes, fierce smiles, flags raised high into the sky in a fierce show of unity. Ancom felt their heart surge with hope, staring out the field of people there, a celebration of progress, of hope. Anarchosyndicalism, Anarchomutualism, and the feminists practically vanished into the crowds instantly, leaving qim and Commie alone. 

“So, Anarkiddie. Explore with me?” Commie’s voice was warm, and he put an arm around qir shoulders. 

“Yeah... That would be really nice.” Qi smiled up at him, blushing at his arm lingering around qir shoulder. As the two walked, his arm drifted down around qir waist and wandered about, stopping by a tent to each grab a drink.

“Oh my gosh, you two are so cute! Commie, is this the Anarchist you were talking about?” A young woman walked up to them, a small hammer and sickle pin on her shirt along with a few other various leftist pins (and a she/her pronoun pin.) “Did you finally tell qim?” She asked. 

“Oh, hello, Marielle. This is Ancom. And no, I have not.” Commie said, his arm stiffening slightly around qim.

“Tell me what?” Ancom asked. 

“Oh, heh, nothing. Bye!” She left quickly, hiding laughter behind her hands. 

“What was that about? And who?”

  
“One of my Marxist friends. People’s conspiracy theory about our dating.”

“Oh… Right. Conspiracy theories.” They sipped the drink, glancing up at his face which had a remarkable blush spreading across his harsh cheekbones. “I mean, it’s dumb, right? We’re just comrades. Nothing more.”

“Exactly! Ansyn and Anmutualist need to learn that we’re only friends, that’s what you want, and that’s what I want. Close friends are allowed to exist. C’mon, let’s go see the speakers.” Commie kept his arm around qim, and qi sighed. Yeah. Qi had a huge fucking crush on him. Qi practically felt their legs give out before the two sat down near the front of the stage, his arm still lingering on qir waist, and qir head drifting to his shoulder. Commie watched intently, offering small remarks to Ancom as the speeches went on, and Ancom watched Commie, watching how his eyes shone at some of the words, listening how to how the smile shaped his words, practically setting qir heart on fire at the way he said the nickname he had given qim. A few Russian words slipped their way in as well, all one’s qi didn’t recognize. ‘Solnishko’, ‘Koshechka’, and ‘Zhizn moya’. Qi decided to ask Marxist Feminism later, for now simply watching Commie and listening, a soft smile shaping his normally harsh features in the most… Beautiful way Ancom had ever seen before. Maybe it wasn’t just a crush? 

* * *

The day faded into night, and the six ideologies sat in a tent with other people, a sort of debate having broken out between a few Syndicalists and Commie, Anarchomutualist sort of on his own team. Ancom watched vaguely, only half paying attention. “Hey, Marxist Feminism?”

“Yeah, Ancom?” She looked over at qim. “You okay?”

“You speak Russian, right?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong? Did Commie say something? Do I need to kick his ass again?”

“No… I mean, yeah, while we were watching the speakers, he was talking to me and he called me Anarkiddie, which is normal, but he called me a few other names in Russian. It was like… Sorry, I’m going to butcher these. ‘Solnishko’, ‘Koshechka’, and ‘Zhizn moya.’ I was just wondering what those meant.” Marxist Feminism choked on her drink slightly, clearing her throat and staring at qim. “What?”

“Are you sure you don’t know what those mean?” She sounded half-strangled, half about to burst into laughter. 

“Uhm, yes? Should I know?” She seemed to have settled on laughing, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Ancom, those are pet names! He called you ‘Little Sun’, that’s was ‘Solnishko’ means, ‘Koshechka’ means ‘Kitty’ and ‘Zhizn moya’ means ‘My life.’ He was calling you pet names.” She laughed weakly at qim as qi gaped at her. 

“What?!” 

“Oh my god, how did you never realise? Ancom, he’s been in love with you for like, a hundred years! Literally! When your people were executed, he was being all ‘Poor Anarkiddie! Qi will lose everyone!’ He got really really drunk. I’m fairly certain he cried.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“Oh my god, you absolute dumbasses. Just kiss him or something, trust me on this one. You’ll thank me later.” 

“I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Well, you’ve been drinking all day. All of us do. He’s probably a bit tipsy, must be why he let the nicknames slip. Sit with him on the way back. I’ll make sure you guys are alone.”

“...Okay.” Ancom stared into their drink and wondered how this was even real. How the fuck was this happening? _Commie? Liking them?_ What was this, a dream? 

* * *

The six ideologies headed back to the bus in the cool spring air. The bottom was almost empty, except for about ten seats. “Hey, you six can go ahead of us!” Marxist Feminism had everyone move aside so a young group of six teenagers could sit down. One of them had an ancom flag tucked in their arms and smiled at Ancom, giving qim a thumbs up. 

  
“Nice shirt.” 

“Thanks.” Marxist feminism, Anarchofeminism, Anarchomutualism, and Anarchosyndicalism took the bottom, leaving Ancom and Commie to climb up to the top layer of the bus, a wink from Marxist Feminism directed towards them. 

Ancom glanced around somewhat panicked at the fact that qi was currently alone with qir crush who liked qim back and said crush was at least somewhat drunk and said drunk crush had his arm around them as they sat in the back, the cool spring air rushing over their faces. 

“Koshechka… You look so lovely in the moonlight,” Commie whispered, brushing a curl behind qir ear. Ancom blushed brightly, a tiny smile flickering across qir face. 

“Thanks,” Qi breathed, half terrified, half enchanted as their faces were scarcely an inch or so apart. 

“It’s like you were made for it, zhizn moya. Your hair shines like bronze in the sun, but in the moon, you look like an angel.” 

“Commie… You’re drunk. I don’t wanna take advantage of you.” Qi pulled away slightly, biting qir lip. 

“Who says you’re taking advantage of me?”

“Me. You’re extremely drunk, how much did you even drink?” 

“Like… nine?”

“Oh dear lord… I can’t believe Marxist Feminism stuck me alone with you right now. I’m not taking advantage of you, okay? Like, sure, I get high a lot, but nine drinks? That’s way too much, even for you.” 

“Can I take advantage of you?” _Oh my fucking god. What the fuck. What the actual fuck was going on?!_

“Commie,” qi squeaked, his hand brushing lightly over qir knee. “What the hell? Look, just cause I have a crush on you doesn’t mean I’m gonna violate you like this!” 

“You have a crush on me?” His eyes widened slightly. 

“I… I mean, I just… You… You’re really… Uh…” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Oh… I give up,” qi mumbled. Qi leaned in and Commie put one hand on qir hip and one on qir shoulder, holding qim close as possible. Ancom felt like qi had melted giving up and grabbing at his hat. It felt like qi was being kissed to within an inch of qir life, heart seeming to beat wildly as qi parted qir lips slightly to allow Commie to push his tongue in qir mouth. When the two pulled away, they were both breathing heavily, gasping for air. “Oh my god, Commie… Are you sure?”

“Ancom, I have never been so sure about wanting you so badly. One hundred years. I’ve loved you for one hundred years.”

“I don’t know how long I’ve loved you… I know I only figured it out today.”

“Mmph… Can I keep kissing you?”

“God, yes please.” He pulled qim back in, and qi ran qir hands across his body, a soft moan escaping qir mouth as qi shifted to sit on his lap. “I love you,” Qi whimpered in between kisses, letting qirself believe what qi really should have known all along. Qi loved him. Qi had loved him for some time, at least a few years. Qi loved Commie, had loved him, would love him. 

When the two came back to reality, they had missed their stop by quite a bit. “Oh, crap! C’mon, we gotta find our way home.” Ancom and Commie left the bus in a rushed apology, starting out to find their way back to Ancap’s house, hands entwined. 

“I’m sorry we got, er, distracted,” Commie said, adjusting his ushanka awkwardly. 

“It’s fine. I like walking with you.” They walked in silence for a few moments, Commie rubbing circles on qir hand softly. 

“You really do look lovely in the moonlight.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed my little drabble 
> 
> anyway  
> JOIN A UNION!  
> JOIN THE GENERAL STRIKE!!  
> <3


End file.
